Living in Glass Houses

By Zoe McKnight

Jonathan is a do-gooding college basketball coach in a relationship with a woman whose Park Avenue upbringing is at constant odds with his Main Street way of life. It’s a life he’s conceded to accept until he meets a woman who awakens in him everything he's been missing and is now uncertain he can live without.

Elle is a NYC editor whose type-A personality has afforded her a fulfilling lifestyle in which she rarely doesn’t get what she wants. That’s until a failed relationship causes her walls to come crashing down around her. The man, who everyone agreed was her perfect other half, leaves her confused, insecure and incapable of moving on—even after she meets someone who’s nothing like her, but who completes her in the strangest of ways.

Blair is an optimistic good-girl, turned jaded wife. After ten years of a disappointing marriage, she decides to reclaim her happiness and fill the void left by her wealthy, philandering husband. Just when everything she’s ever dreamed of is finally within her grasp, she’s haunted by her past, forcing her to make a decision which will forever change the path of her life.

Living in Glass Houses is a contemporary story about three friends, all at a crossroads after discovering that even the best laid plans don’t always result in the life you want. It’s about navigating the murky waters of relationships and friendships and having the courage to make those hard, life-altering decisions which mark the difference between existing and living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zoe McKnight
• Release date: Jul 17, 2012

Zoe McKnight

Zoe McKnight was born and raised in New York. After graduating from Hofstra University with a degree in business, she launched a career in marketing and public relations. She currently lives in New York City. Living in Glass Houses is her first novel. The sequel, What Happens in the Dark (working title), is scheduled for release in the Fall of 2012. She describes her writing as contemporary women's fiction drizzled with suspense, wit and page-turning drama.

Book preview

Jonathan

They pulled onto her parents’ block to find their circular driveway lined bumper to bumper with late-model cars. Jonathan was pleased to see this—the more people in attendance meant the less focus on him. The backyard was sprinkled with guests, most with drinks already in hand. Music hummed in the background, loud enough to add ambiance yet low enough so as not to interfere with conversation. Roslyn regarded every little detail. He parked his pick-up behind a black S-class; its gleaming trunk provided a chastising reflection of Jonathan’s dirty hood.

Do you think it’s too tight? Lauryn tugged on her A-line skirt before carefully adjusting the blouse she’d changed into and out of twice before they’d left her house.

Nope, you look fine, Jonathan said.

You didn’t even look.

"I was there when you put it on, wasn’t I? You look good.

Stop fussing, it’s just a barbecue." Why she insisted on wearing a dress and heels just to traipse around grass was beyond him.

She reached for his hand as they entered the curving flagstone pathway leading to the backyard. Clusters of people mingled around linen-draped high-top tables. What had come to be known as the traditional barbecue scent—a strange mixture of burgers, charcoal, and citronella—was replaced with the aroma of steak, seafood, and lamb. At the far end of the yard were three banquet tables adorned with ivory and black linens. Behind them stood several servers, all dressed in black so they could easily be distinguished from the guests, most of whom donned crisp whites, creams, yellows, and pinks. Jonathan’s dark blue jeans and navy blue polo shirt stood out—like the smell of lamb at a backyard barbecue. Lauryn looked to Jonathan, her eyes sending a clear, I told you so message. He shrugged, grabbed a shrimp kebob from the tray of a passing server, and slurped a pineapple from the tip of the stick as he thought, What man wears white pants to a barbecue? Hell, what man wears white pants?

Ah, my first-born finally decided to grace us with her presence. Roslyn appeared behind them, her four-inch heels placing her statuesque frame eye to eye with Jonathan. She kissed Lauryn on the cheek and squeezed Jonathan’s free hand. Now, what took you both so long?

Lauryn stood a tad taller and squeezed her stomach a bit tighter. Church ended a little late today. Then there was traffic on the LIE.

Traffic? Eastbound at this hour? Anywho, how was the service? Did you send Father James our best? I just couldn’t tear myself away this morning. The landscaper was late, then the caterer brought the wrong silverware. It was a mess. But I’m glad you could go in our stead. Well, my stead. Your father rarely attends anymore.

Well, you know dad can’t sit still but for so long.

Don’t I know. Roslyn rolled her eyes, then set them on Jonathan. It’s been a long time. When was the last time we saw you? She wagged a chastising finger at him. You never come around anymore.

This, all of this, was the reason he rarely came around—stuffy, pretentious people all crammed into one space discussing boring right-wing crap. He’d tried to fit in for Lauryn’s sake, tried to be a good sport and rub elbows with her parents’ friends, but no sooner than he’d reveal that he wasn’t a member of a fraternity, that he’d gone to a community college, and was now a basketball coach, they’d lose interest and conveniently be drawn away to another conversation. Some would feign interest by asking condescending questions, like Roslyn’s accountant who was so bold as to ask Jonathan what college basketball coaches grossed these days. That was the last time Roslyn had seen him.

Just been busy with work is all. He shifted on his feet as he looked past her, hoping another server would make it his way.

She appraised him, her eyes briefly resting on the tattoo peeking from beneath his sleeve. The season’s only a few months, though, isn’t it?

Lauryn wrapped her arm around Jonathan’s waist and leaned against him, grateful she’d insisted he shaved that morning. Although he preferred a more rugged look, she thought he looked especially handsome with a sharply lined mustache and goatee. She reminded her mother that he taught fitness classes at the college when he wasn’t coaching—a fact Roslyn acknowledged with a haughty nod.

To Jonathan’s delight, a waiter carrying a silver tray came their way. He scooped up another shrimp kebob and Lauryn reached for a chicken slider. Before it could reach her lips, Roslyn frowned.

Sweetie, maybe you shouldn’t. It looks like you’re putting on a pinch of weight. Roslyn leaned in and whispered in her ear. Remember what I told you. When in doubt—Spanx. Her attention was drawn away. What is that girl doing? I told her not to bring out the fruit salad until six. Oh my, I’ll be right back. She strode away.

Lauryn turned to Jonathan. I told you it was too tight. She squeezed her cheeks in an effort to create slack in her skirt.

You’re fine. Stop it.

Her self-appraisal ended when two of her childhood friends swooped in and regaled them of tales of a recent vacation or a good sale on some boots or maybe it was about a pair of boots they’d bought on vacation. Who knew? Jonathan was no more interested in their conversation than he was in being there. Lauryn was swept away and in due time he was left posted up against the bar, grateful she wasn’t glued to his hip for once. Multiple cocktails eased his discomfort and he even managed to find common ground with the bartender, who was probably the only person there impressed with the fact that Jonathan coached a NCAA Division III team. They talked sports until the sun set and the backyard became illuminated with rattan globe string lights and lanterns.

Just as he was mulling over a reasonable excuse to leave, Roslyn approached him with Lauryn in tow. I have someone I want you both to meet. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. She waved to a short, white-haired man standing a few feet away. He was surrounded by a flock of women who appeared to be hanging on his every word. Dr. Leed! Come.

What now? Here goes Roslyn again, posturing by introducing him to her well-appointed, professional friends. Either her way of reminding Lauryn she could do better or of telling him he wasn’t good enough. Or both. To his face she campaigned for their marriage, but who knew what she said to her daughter behind closed doors.

Dr. Leed excused himself from his fan club and made his way to the hostess. Ah Roslyn, my dear, I so enjoy your functions. I always meet the most interesting people.

Roslyn linked her arm through his. Doctor, this is my daughter Lauryn, the one I was telling you about.

Lauryn and Jonathan exchanged curious glances as they took turns shaking Dr. Leed’s hand.

Ah yes, Dr. Leed said as he reached inside his jacket. We should definitely set up a consultation. He retrieved a business card and handed it to Lauryn. But I can answer any questions you both might have. It’s actually quite simple of a procedure.

Procedure? Lauryn asked.

Oocyte cryopreservation. Egg freezing. The proud smile on Dr. Leed’s face receded. I thought you and your fiancé were looking into it.

Lauryn turned to Roslyn. Mom?

What? Roslyn said. I looked into it for you, sweetie. For the both of you. Dr. Leed is one of the best fertility specialists in the state of New York. He can help you. This way you’ll have them available whenever you both are ready.

Mom!

Now, why are you turning all red? I’m just trying to help.

Jonathan snatched the card from Lauryn’s hand and ripped it in two. This is some bullshit. We don’t need a damn fertility specialist.

Dr. Leed looked to Roslyn, his face was awash with confusion. Um, excuse us for a moment, doctor. She plastered a smile to her face, then ushered him away before turning back to them. How dare you embarrass me like that in front of one of my guests? What’s wrong with you?

We need to talk—inside. Lauryn led the way back to the kitchen. Inside, some of the waitstaff stood around, leaning against the counter and laughing amongst themselves. As soon as they saw Roslyn, they quieted, stood erect and scrambled to grab utensils or anything that resembled work.

Roslyn shot them daggers. How long have these trays been sitting here? She stabbed a crab cake with a plastic toothpick and examined it closely. Just as I thought—it’s cold. They should have been out there a long time ago.

They mumbled apologies as they grabbed trays and darted towards the sliding doors.

She turned to Jonathan and Lauryn. Now, what’s the problem with you two?

Why the hell are you recruiting fertility doctors? Did anybody ask you to do that? Jonathan felt ambushed. If Lauryn’s face wasn’t beet red, as it often turned when she was upset, he might have believed she was in on the whole thing.

Roslyn, however, never became frazzled. In case you forgot, Lauryn here is thirty-seven-years old. A woman her age has an eighteen percent chance of conception. Eighteen! And it drops to ten after she turns forty. You guys are running against the clock. Why not take advantage of all of the technology—

Because this is none of your business! We’re not married and we’re not even thinking about having kids. You have a lot of nerve—

Married. Hmph. Roslyn grabbed a hand towel and wiped up a ring of water, which to an indiscriminating eye would have been completely camouflaged amongst the fluid swirl of the silver granite countertop. That’s a whole other story. Don’t even get me started on that.

A server stepped back inside the kitchen, carrying an empty tray. She took one step toward the refrigerator before Roslyn barked. Outside! Don’t you see we’re having a private conversation? She turned back to them. Listen, drag your feet if you want to, but what you’re not going to do is deny me of grandchildren simply because you like to take your sweet time. She took Lauryn’s hands in hers. Now listen to me for a change and go see Dr. Leed. I’ll call him tomorrow to see if I can smooth this over. I’ll just tell him that—that Jonathan had too much to drink. Yes, that’s it, too much to drink.

You don’t get it, do you? Jonathan said. We’re not going to see any doctor and you need to stay out of our business.

Roslyn glared at him before turning to her daughter. Are you just going to stand there and let your boyfriend talk to me like this? God knows I raised you better than that. First your brother, now you. You’ll both be the death of me, I swear. She raised an exaggerated palm to her forehead. I’ll never make it to sixty, dealing with you two.

Mom, you were out of line. Lauryn’s eyes darted all about the room, everywhere except up towards her mother’s. I told you, it will happen in due time. I don’t need this pressure from you. It’s bad enough—

What? What? Say it. It’s bad enough that your best friend is having a baby? Or that your little cousin, Sheila is pregnant with her second? Look around you, girl, everyone is having children. That’s what you’re supposed to do—get married and have children! Your sister would die for the opportunity and here you are letting it slip through your fingers because of him.

Jonathan slammed his glass down on the counter. I’m out of here, I don’t need this shit. Let’s go.

Lauryn grabbed his hand and followed him out of the kitchen.

You remember, Miss thing, Roslyn called, you only have one mother!

They rode home in silence. He’d been a fool to believe he would make it through the day unscathed. Marriage simply wasn’t on Jonathan’s radar. It was touted by most people as the beginning of a new life, but to him it signified the end. The end to individual thoughts, priorities, and space. Right now he still had choices. If he felt like being alone or blowing his bonus on a set of Titleist golf clubs or even flirting with the cashier at CVS, he could and without any guilt. Marriage changed everything. And marriage to Lauryn? That would be a task.

But he did understand her plight. She was five years his senior and the only one in her circle not yet married or at least engaged. She’d been a bridesmaid in at least three weddings last year and was a godmother four times over. The ticking of her biological clock kept her up some nights and the pressure from her mother didn’t help. Her younger brother, Brandon, was gay and had made it clear there would be no children in his future. Her younger sister had struggled with sickle cell anemia most of her life and as fate would have it she married a man with the sickle cell trait. So to avoid the risk of passing the disease onto a child, they made a painful decision not to have children. Their names were now on the bottom of an extremely long adoption waiting list. Therefore, the pressure for grandchildren rested on Lauryn’s shoulders and she passed it onto Jonathan’s.

As if she were reading his thoughts, she blurted it out. Do you ever plan on asking me to marry you?

There it was. Or rather there Roslyn was. He’d driven a good ten miles away, yet her presence still lingered. Her words danced around in her daughter’s head, bringing Lauryn’s insecurities to the surface.

C’mon, don’t start that again.

I want to know. We’ve been together a long time now. Don’t you want a future with me? This was a question she’d rehearsed in the mirror several times before. His eyes remained straight ahead, glued on the road although they’d been brought to all but a stop by traffic.

Of course I want you in my future, but that doesn’t mean we have to get married right away.

I don’t mean right away. It doesn’t have to be today Jonathan, I just want to know that we’re on the same page. I want to marry you, I have no doubts in my mind about that.

And I want to be with you, I have no doubts in my mind about that either.

So, then what are we waiting for? A year ago his answer would have sufficed, but she needed more. She couldn’t go back to her friends and tell them he’d only said he wanted to be with her.

He shrugged. I don’t know . . .

His gesture incensed her. A shrug meant indifference. A shrug was a response one offered when asked what they wanted to eat for dinner or what movie they wanted to see. It wasn’t an answer the man of one’s dreams gives when asked about marriage. She needed and deserved more. You don’t know? Her eyes grew wide.

I don’t know, Lauryn. I just don’t know and don’t start getting all upset, either. Just relax.

Relax? Relax was a distant cousin to a shrug. How can you tell me to relax when we’re talking about my future? Our future! How long am I supposed to sit tight while you decide what you want to do, Jonathan? It’s time we take this to the next level, I’m tired of waiting. What’s the damn hold up?

You’re getting worked up over nothing—

And you’re not taking this serious enough. Tell me what the problem is and we can fix it. You need to tell me something or—

He whipped his head towards her. Or what?

Lauryn froze. Her internal script came screeching to a halt. She’d been ready to spew the bullet points lined up in her mind, but realized she’d treaded into ultimatum territory—someplace she didn’t want to go. A place her friends had casually suggested she visit if all else failed. Although she’d feigned agreement at the time, she knew in her heart she would never have the guts to do it. There was entirely too much on the line and her inner gambler was a coward. Her voice was low and timid. I just don’t understand . . .

In due time, Lauryn. You just can’t rush things like this. Look at your friends. Yeah, they’re all married, but how many of them are happy? Either they’re cheating or they think their husband is cheating or they’re sleeping in separate bedrooms. What is that? What we have is much more solid. A piece of paper doesn’t mean anything. He reached over and squeezed her left hand. Let’s not argue, okay? Or else your mom wins. Let’s just go home, get in bed, and forget all about today, okay?

She stared at his profile and couldn’t help but admire the sharp lines of his jaw and the way the corners of his deep-set eyes crinkled when he was frustrated. She decided that arguing about getting married wasn’t going to get her to the altar any faster. In due time. She had to be patient. He would come around.

2

Blair

She could hear rumblings from the loud bass in his media room. Normally it annoyed her, but tonight offered assurance that her husband would be distracted as she made her exit. She kept one eye fixed on its door as she rummaged through her overnight bag, checking to see if she’d remembered her cell-phone charger. As usual, she hadn’t. Her nerves were always in disarray when it came time to pack for her weekend getaways. She sprinted upstairs to their master suite, tugged it from the outlet near the bed, gave the room a quick once over, and rushed back downstairs. When she reached the bottom of the steps he was standing there.

Leaving already? He stood at the foot of the stairs in a pair of baggy basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt. Dangling from between his knuckles were two empty long-necked beer bottles.

Yeah. Her eyes darted to her unzipped bag, resting on the floor a few feet away from him.

Vaughn stepped towards her and wrapped his large hand around her waist. He pulled her close and attempted to kiss her on the mouth but she turned her head to the side and his lips landed on her cheek. It was the type of kiss he hated. The type he’d been getting a lot of lately. What’s wrong?

She shifted on her feet. Nothing, I just want get on the road before it gets late. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? She rushed to zip the bag shut. Before she could slide the strap over her shoulder, he told her he had it and lifted it by its handles before walking her to the garage.

A moment later she was seated in her car, eager to release her foot from the brake and head to the highway. But Vaughn delayed her. He was leaning through her window, his forearms resting on the jamb as he engaged her in idle chatter. So what are you guys getting into this weekend?

She told him she was going wine tasting with her sister. Wait, had she used that excuse already? Were there even vineyards in Pennsylvania? Didn’t matter, he’d soon forget what she said anyhow. It must have sounded plausible because he told her to have a good time and sent her sister his best. Only after the garage door had closed behind her and she inhaled the nighttime air, did she finally exhale.

When she reached the first red traffic light, she removed her wedding band and tucked it in a tiny velvet pouch. Soon the trees and suburban silence became replaced with traffic lights and activity. She rubbed her bare finger and gnawed her bottom lip as she pulled onto the highway. No matter how many times she’d taken this same road, heading towards the same destination, guilt had a way of creeping into her backseat and hovering, pressing heavy against her conscience. She tried her best to muzzle it, for Vaughn didn’t deserve her guilt. No, she was not going to feel bad. So what that he’d called her at lunch time, just to hear her voice, and had surprised her last week with front-row tickets to Madame Butterfly. He probably didn’t even pay for them. Just made a call as he always did, cashing in on his celebrity. An opera and a phone call did not a good marriage make. It was a good performance, though, and arranging for her to meet the cast had been an unexpected bonus. Guess it didn’t really matter how he secured the tickets. He’d listened, for once. Even sat through the three-hour performance with her, the first time in a long time they’d done anything together. It reminded her of how things used to be way back when, when they were inseparable, before his true colors were revealed.

Seemed so long ago, their years together at Syracuse University. It was only at the insistence of two of her college roommates during sophomore year that they even met. Blair had entered the dormitory lounge she shared with four other girls and found two of her suite mates, Lisa and Renee, blasting their mixed CDs above the roar of the blowdryer and television. It had been Blair’s plan to hole herself up in her room and spend some much-needed quality time with her accounting textbook. Much to her chagrin, she was still unacquainted with the difference between debits and credits; anything less than a B would have dropped her GPA below a 2.5 (an already low set bar for her business management major) and she’d lose one of her grants. When she tried to explain this to her suite mates, they didn’t want to hear it and gave her twenty minutes to change her clothes, add some curl to her flat bob, and be ready to go with them to the homecoming game.

It didn’t take much convincing, for she promised herself she’d dedicate her entire weekend to studying for the dreaded midterm. A practice which had gotten her into GPA trouble in the first place. It turned out there was an agenda above and beyond cheering for the Syracuse University football squad. Renee, her newest suite mate who’d just transferred from some SUNY school Blair couldn’t recall the name of, had her crosshairs set on the team’s star wide receiver. He was in her psychology class and had invited her to the game earlier that week. Blair was later to learn that his invitation was in fact a casual, ‘you should check out the game’ as opposed to ‘I’ll have tickets waiting for you at the gate’ like Renee had told them.

The excitement of the game, the crowd hysterics and the sea of orange fanfare trumped Blair’s date with income statements and balance sheets. That night, at Renee’s insistence, they went to an after party off campus. It was there where Blair’s friendship with Renee ended and her relationship with Vaughn began.

Renee had spent the entire night trying to draw Vaughn’s attention by batting her eyelashes, suggestively stroking his forearm, and offering him sips of her cocktails. Blair and Lisa figured they’d be walking back to their dorm alone that night and were ready to do just that until Blair and Vaughn found themselves standing across from each other on a ridiculously long bathroom line. When his turn came before hers, he offered her his spot, much to the displeasure of the tipsy undergrads lined up behind him. She accepted, truly seeing him for the first time that night and quickly understanding Renee’s infatuation with a man who hadn’t said but a few words to her. He had a perfect blend of pretty boy features and rugged good looks. She shook the thought from her head as she washed her hands, ready to go find Lisa and head back to their room. But when she stepped back into the hall, he was still there, leaning against the wall waiting.

She smiled. It’s all yours.

He bit his lower lip. Is it?

What?

You heard me? He smiled, his lips curled into a playful sneer.

You’re crazy.

Wait. He stepped in her path and leaned his long arm against the wall, creating an alcove with his body.

What? Her neck strained to take him all in, as he was a full foot taller than she. Even so he was close enough that she could smell the sweet, sugary scent of his gum.